Rockstar 04 Interlude(35)

"Gross."

"Yep. Kyle Cooper is worth every drop of drool."

"I agree, Coop is hot, but that's sick. You're aware of that, right?"

"Yep. Ask me if I care."

"Do you care?"

"Nope."

She lets out an unladylike snort.

I smirk. "We better head inside."

Lisa stops me once more just outside the classroom and looks me in the  eye. "Let me know if you change your mind. All it takes is one phone  call."

I nod. Scary shit right there. Just saying.

We walk into the last class of the day.

So far the first day of the second semester of my junior year at Lake  Point Academy South is going pretty well. I lean my head on my hand and  start doodling in my notebook. An artist I'm not, but I like to keep my  mind occupied.

So much has happened this past year, I think as I sit in Ms. Pritchard's  Creative Writing class and turn to look out the window. The snow has  really started to come down. Large flakes are blowing harshly in the  wind, and when it stops, they spiral gloriously to the ground. My dad  used to tell me a story my grandma (his mom) told him when he was  little. She'd said that when it snowed like this, the angels were having  pillow fights and those were the feathers from a torn pillow floating  listlessly to the earth. The memory brings a tear to my eye. My dad died  last summer and I don't think I'll ever get over it. He was my savior,  my best friend, my protector, and I miss him every minute of every  single day.

Circle of life and all that BS is what people keep saying but the gist  of it is: Everything and everyone dies. Some days I wish I would. It  would be a lot easier than fighting the never-ending battle of my  miserable life. I sigh inwardly.         

     



 

I guess my life isn't so bad from the outside looking in. I mean, I'm  not a social outcast but I'm not the most popular kid either. Since my  dad passed, I've been so screwed up, locked up tight inside myself. It's  not that I haven't tried to fake normal, but a person can only pretend  so much before the truth surfaces.

Meh. I blink and shake off the heavy thoughts ruining the beauty of the  storm outside when the final bell rings. I pick up my pen as the last of  the stragglers come in. I'm usually one of the stragglers but not to  this class. I love to write and I actually love this class-not that I'd  ever admit that out loud to anyone. It's my secret. I've shared some  poetry with a couple people I trust but the rest is mine.

The final bell rings and Lisa looks at me and mouths, no Hottie God?

I shrug, but to tell you the truth I'm a bit surprised myself …  and if I'm being honest, I'm a bit disappointed.

"First time in a year and a half," Lisa whispers.

I nod solemnly and her eyebrows go up.

Ms. Pritchard calls attention, pulling me from my thoughts as she starts  babbling on about nouns, pronouns, and all that happy horseshit.  Truthfully, I don't care about that crap and I can't tell you what a  pronoun is to save my life. I just enjoy stringing sentences together  and telling the stories that create themselves in my mind.

I tap my pen on my notebook in boredom when Lisa, next to me, sends me a  glare. I smile apologetically then bring the pen to my mouth and begin  to chew on the cap.

Lisa Renzi's been my best friend since the third grade. We met when she  moved from the Bronx. She wore glasses so all the kids picked on her,  calling her four-eyes. I thought she was pretty, even with the glasses.  They suited her. So I walked right up to her in the middle of the  bullying at recess, took her hand and walked to the jungle gym where we  hung upside down like monkeys and became instant friends. She knows all  my secrets and I know all of hers. She's one of the few people in the  world I know I can trust-I can trust her to be honest and to keep my  secrets, even the really bad ones.

While Lisa's supermodel beautiful, I, on the other hand, am five feet  nothing. I admit to having pretty awesome long blonde, naturally curly  hair. My hair along with my blue-green eyes are my best features. The  rest of my face isn't anything spectacular. My body is a bit too curvy  for my liking. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not fat-far from it. I've  just got more hip and boob proportion than I'm comfortable with.

There's a knock at the door and that's when he walks in. Oh my God. What's he doing here? I thought …

Lisa looks over and smirks. I watch, resigned to the fact that there is no escaping all that is his hotness.

"Mr. Cooper," Ms. Pritchard starts, flustered and blushing, "to what do we owe the pleasure?"

I roll my eyes. Even the teachers fawn over him. Mr. Popular. Mr.  Quarterback. Mr. Basketball. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Yummy. Who can blame  her, really? He's six feet tall with unruly brown hair that sticks up in  disarray, giving him that just jumped out of bed look-or been  thoroughly kissed and the girl (preferably me) ran her fingers  rapturously through his hair. Yeah, oh yeah. A girl can dream.

His eyes …  eyes the color of milk chocolate surrounded by long thick  eyelashes I'd kill to have, his lips full and lush, and his body firm  and muscular. In other words: sex on a stick and every female that comes  within ten feet of him wants to take a lick … or a bite.

Lisa leans across the aisle and whispers, "And the Hottie God has arrived."

I roll my eyes again.

"Every class for three semesters?" she asks.

I nod and she smirks.

"Luc told me today that Kyle dumped Macyn in the middle of his party the  other night. He just looked at her when she started hanging all over  him and told her to take a hike."

I raise my eyebrows and my eyes widen. "No shit?"

"No shit," she whispers.

"That had to be humiliating." I bite my bottom lip trying to stifle my grin. Awww, poor, poor Macyn.

Lisa smirks, knowing exactly what I'm thinking. "It was time. That skank was with him entirely too long if you ask me."

"It was barely a week."

"Two. And two weeks too long," Lisa says with a pointed look.

Aaron Weber, who's sitting in front of me, adds, "I heard she cheated with DeMarco."

"Ewww," Lisa and I say at the same time.

"What the …  why?" I ask aloud.

"No shit," Lisa adds.

"Chicks," Aaron says with a shrug and turns around.

I lean forward a bit and whisper to Aaron, "Because you've recently gone  through an ugly breakup, Weber, I'm not going to cuff you on the back  of your head for that incredibly sexist comment. Any other time and  you'd be feeling the pain."         

     



 

He responds with a sheepish grin, "For someone so small, you're really scary, Wilks."

"Don't forget it either." Like my wimpy self could even hurt anyone. I snort inwardly. What they don't know won't hurt them.

Lisa points at me and mouths, your turn with the Hottie God.

I wish. I just shake my head and give her a helpless look. She's the only one who knows my secret.

So, okay, I have a crush on Kyle Cooper. He's hot, he's sexy, he's one  of the sweetest guys I've ever met-and I'm too shy to let him in on the  fact that my heart ping pongs around inside my chest whenever he's  around.

I've known him all my life but he's always been untouchable. We're  friends but we're never alone together unless it has to do with family  obligations, and I never really thought we would be-until ninth grade.

He'd been assigned as my Biology lab partner. He sensed my desperation  when we were faced with the "dissection" portion of class. He recognized  it without having to even tell him. It'd probably been written all over  my face, but in any event, he took pity on me and that was the one and  only time I would never bristle when someone pitied me.

He took over, soothing me with his voice while he cut open the  nauseating, formaldehyde-drenched insects and frog. Gawd, it'd been  disgusting, but disgusting took on a whole new level when we got to the  earthworm.

A long, filthy worm. I shudder in remembrance. Apparently I turned a bit  greener than I had with any of the other "victims". Kyle just rubbed my  back and told me it'd be all right. I'm not usually such a sissy. I  mean, when I used to go fishing with my parents, I put my own worm on  the hook, so I don't know what prompted that reaction.

Maybe it was because I had to inspect the guts of this worm. Maybe it  was the smell. Jesus, did that thing smell-like smelly feet combined  with ass. I don't know. All I do know is I'm glad that Kyle Cooper had  been my partner because not every guy would've let me get by without  doing some of the cutting.

Then one day he produced a small jar of Vicks, opened it, put a little on his finger, and rubbed it underneath my nose.

"That should help with the smell," he said as he closed the jar and returned it to his backpack.

That's when my heart started beating for him. He wasn't like the rest of  them-the rich, preppy jocks. He was kind, caring and sweet.

"I switched a class, so you get me for the rest of the semester." He  gives Ms. Pritchard his best smile and I swear I hear every female in  the class sigh. I'm not immune, I feel it as much as the next girl. I  just don't want him to know. What would be the point?